


Pin

by lepinjakajmak



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/F, Humanstuck, lezbianism, nepeta/terezi but not really, past terezi/aradia, yes this is self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepinjakajmak/pseuds/lepinjakajmak
Summary: Terezi Pyrope was a high school freshman when she first encountered enigmatic upperclassman, Vriska Serket. She was a sophomore when they broke up.And that year in between?Therein — as the bard would tell you — lies the rub.AKA Self-indulgent Vrisrezi humanstuck high school AU





	Pin

**Author's Note:**

> the summary is garbage oops. title is a reference to the song pin by grimes. i told myself i wasn't going to upload anything frm this verse until it's finished, but this was perfect first chapter material and i couldnt resist. im probably gonna upload a few more chapters while i work on completing this monster, and then delete & reupload when i figure out how i rly want it.

You haven't talked to Vriska since those texts, though because you run in largely the same circles, there have been plenty of instances of awkwardly standing around each other, silently. 

According to Karkat, though, at a party a few weeks ago, Vriska got drunk. Like, really, quite shit-faced. And apparently she was talking about you. Asking if you still used Adderall, whether you had a plug. Asking whether you've moved on.  
When you first heard this, you were indignant. How was this any of her business! And though maybe Vriska hadn't moved on quite as entirely as you thought she did, you certainly had. You have a girlfriend for christ sakes!

But those words, those questions, the fact that Vriska at her most uninhibited defaulted to talking about you, they didn't quite go away. And her question of whether you have moved on was the most insistent of all, swirling in your head, poking and prodding the weak spots in your resolve.  
And — if you are being completely, brutally honest with yourself — you're still hyperaware of her. When she walks into a room, your mind's eye latches onto her scent, pinpoints her, tracks her, filling the blanks in your perception with the word-bank of memory.

To your friends, you pretend like you don't care, like all it took was a weekend of crying along to Drake songs to bounce back, completely unaffected. But it's a different story when no one's around — when you're home alone.

That's when you indulge.

Sometimes you're angry. You mentally put her on the defense stand, hold a trial where you are the judge, jury, and prosecution, and she is charged with her transgressions against you. She is found guilty and she is the one humiliated.  
Sometimes you're sad. You just sit and remember what did happen, what will never happen again, what was so nearly in your grip. Sometimes you cry, but sometimes no tears come, and you go through the rest of the day with a lead ball in your stomach.  
And sometimes — very rarely — most shamefully, you are lovesick.

You imagine that this is all one big romantic comedy, and that this is the part in the second half of the movie where something goes horribly wrong and the couple parts from each other.  
But at the end, after deep soul searching to realize she cannot live without you, she shows up in your Gilder Lehrman period or in front of your house with a boom box playing some ridiculous 80s pop ballad and you pretend to be angry and embarrassed, but by the end you give in and run to her arms and kiss her in front of all the idiots in your class period as if to say "Yes! Yes, I am the weird blind sophomore in a class for juniors and yes, I am kissing a senior because I am cared about and yes I am cooler than you thought I was!"  
Or in the case where she shows up in front of your house, you guess you kiss her in front of your Webkinz that you refuse to throw out. But it's all fantasy so the particulars are sort of irrelevant. 

~~~

And you know you're a bad person, though if you're being honest, you never thought that you of all people would have the problem of wandering eyes. 

You know you shouldn't have begun dating poor, sweet, innocent Nepeta before making absolutely sure you were over Vriska. But a part of you thought that Nepeta could be part of your getting-over-Vriska. 

It isn't working out that way. Every conversation you have with her, you think of how Vriska would've said something different. Every date you go on (though those are far and few between considering how batshit crazy Nepeta's mom is) you think of how Vriska would've done something so stupid and insane that would've made the whole night five times more interesting.  
Every time you kiss, you feel a little disappointed because the fire that was there when you kissed Vriska is a mere ember when with Nepeta.  
Every time Nepeta neglects to leave you in uncertainty, answers your text message too soon, sounds too eager to see you, you cringe. Because realistically, you should be ecstatic. But because you are apparently the masochist to end all masochists, every time Nepeta handles you with care, you feel yourself growing more and more bored. You're almost angry. You almost want to grab Nepeta by the lapels of that dumb jacket she wears even in June and shake her, yelling, "You idiot! You're driving me away! You should realize by now that I need to be challenged! I need it to be hard!"  
Because you do. You need a challenge. You need a chase so much that it aches.

~~~

It was the exact same problem with Aradia. She was too eager, too easy.  
You had known each other for years, one of your closest friends, and she asked you out awkwardly over text at 3 am (which was really her 9 pm because she visiting family in Italy for spring break) during your freshman year. It was the first time anyone had asked you out.  
You were so happy and so excited, though a little voice niggled in the back of your brain, just underneath the skin of the nape of your neck, that maybe you only liked Aradia as a friend.  
But it would be your first relationship, and the rest of your boy-crazy friends had gotten their first relationships, first kisses, in middle school, so why deny yourself this rite of passage?  
You jumped into a shallow pool headfirst, though it took a week of heart emojis and soft words for your forehead to smack the bottom. 

And because you did love Aradia on some level — albeit only platonically — and she seemed so happy, so content, so satisfied, you allowed yourself to linger there, upside-down like an exclamation point for seven months as resentments floated up like oxygen bubbles through the water around you.  
And it was near the end of that limbo that you met Vriska. 

~~~

Vriska is a firecracker. There is not one person in the school who does not know who she is, and ninety percent of them hate her. She is arrogant, abrasive, obnoxious, and has it in her head that she is going places. 

You have known of Vriska since you joined science club in freshman year. You were both working on the forensics event for Olympiads and would often stay after school with your respective teammates to practice. Even then you could feel her nervous, manic energy, the way she would dart around the room, constantly patting her cloud of hair as if she thought it float away.  
You never interacted, and you honestly didn't think much of the crazy junior who yelled murder at anyone who drifted too close to her competition powder kits. 

Around a month after your school's team lost at regionals (which was a letdown because apparently they had went to states the year before), when going to pick up Karkat — with whom you had gotten remarkably close upon entering high school — from his culture club meeting, you found him talking to Vriska.  
And when afterwards, you were walking with him to the buses, he told you, "She's a lesbian, you know," in some sort of inane suggestion, committing what you thought of as the ultimate fallacy in assuming you wanted anything to do with that greaseball just because you were both lesbians. You made sure to let him know exactly that with as much indignation as you could muster. 

It wasn't until almost one whole unsatisfying relationship later that you were given the chance to prove him wrong. 

It was the final month of your sorry excuse of a relationship with Aradia and you were sitting as part of the pep band during your sophomore year homecoming game, bored out of your mind, woozy from the overstimulation of being part of the fifty kids blasting "Hey Ya" every time a point was scored. You had no friends in the clarinet section and you had already used up all of your cellular data trying to stream Chicken Little. Half-time had just ended, and as you ambled back to your personal prison of the metal bleachers, surrounded by out of tune dimwits, you heard a throat clear next to you. As you turned to the source of the noise, it spoke up.  
"You're the blind girl who's going to go to Harvard, right?"

You were thrown because you had no clue that Vriska played trumpet, and had been sitting next to you for the better part of an hour none the less. You hadn't noticed her through the din of the game and band.  
By focusing your vision and concentrating really hard, you were able to determine that gone was the unruly cloud of hair, replaced now by what seemed to be many tight braids on one side of her head, and the short, shaggy remnants of a buzz cut that hadn't been re-shaved for months on the other side.  
"Well considering I'm a sophomore, I don't think I'm going anywhere yet," you replied. Not your wittiest retort, but decent.  
You could tell she was grinning now, or was it more of a leer? Either way, you were glad for the salvation of a conversation.

It was during this conversation that you learned a lot about Vriska.  
That she got her new hairdo (and new piercings, as she told you with a glint in her eye) while at a sleep-away program for writing, and how her family of anthropologists and archaeologists disapproved of that interest. About how she was planning to go to a homecoming rager after the game, but might instead go to a diner because her parents had taken to breathalyzing her when she got home. About the first time they breathalyzed her and took her phone when it became apparent she was shit-faced, and by reading texts between her and her friends, that's how her parents found out she was gay. About how she was always so impressed with you in science club because you were so methodical and skilled in your work.  
And during all of this, you were shameless. You asked every question you had ever had about drugs during that conversation. You don't think she minded, she was laughing, said she had never met a goody-goody more curious about illicit substances.  
You felt as if the word "cute" was on the tip of her tongue, but considering you were in a six-month relationship with one of your best friends ever, you didn't even know what you would do if she had said it.

But you couldn't deny that something about the uncertainty around Vriska attracted you. Something about how dangerous she was, how rebellious, how much your mom would hate her: like every clichéd teenage girl, it appealed to you.  
And most of all, you utterly and completely failed in proving Karkat wrong.


End file.
